


Control

by MMonster



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Bruce is a control freak, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Kink, Smut, Some Plot, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MMonster/pseuds/MMonster
Summary: Bruce has fought for control most of his life. Over himself and others, over impossible odds and possibilities. Is it any wonder that when faced with Diana, this beautiful, larger-than-life being, what he most craves is having her under his control, helpless and his for the taking?





	Control

Bruce has fought for control most of his life. Over himself and others, over impossible odds and possibilities. Mostly, he has had enough success to be able to continue doing it, day after day, for over 20 years as the Batman of Gotham. By now, it's not only second nature. It's a need.

Even the few people he has opened his home, his heart to, he has striven to control. Ultimately, Selina couldn't forgive him for it. Nor could Grayson, not after Bruce failed him again and again, starting with his inability to save his brother. Those he didn't drive away with his paranoid need for control, he lost by being too distracted from it to protect.

Is it any wonder then that when he meets Diana, Bruce's first instinct is to attach a tracker to her without her noticing? This larger-than-life being, so much older and more powerful than his human brain can even fully comprehend and he puts a tracker on her, not to lose her from sight. He studies her closely as they converse later, after Doomsday is defeated, and then at Clark's funeral, as if he has any hope of figuring her out.

Bruce compiles all information possible about Diana's past, even hard copies he has to travel himself to get. He sends her the picture she was looking for, because it belongs to her. But the rest he keeps hidden away, she doesn't need to know how often she occupies his thoughts simply by existing.

Bruce tells himself the reason for it all is that it's simply what he does. Batman is always prepared. He has to know his enemies and allies both, for someday soon a contingency may be required. He must have control over the variables.

While Diana is one he has had an eye on for a while, it was only when she dropped from the sky to save him from certain death that he understood how big of a variable she truly is. She will be the one thing that stands between annihilation and this world again someday. He's sure she was, many times in the past. Diana was here before Superman and she remains here after him. Earth had its' biggest loss recently. It needs a champion and it has one, for as long as Diana is kept safe. Bruce failed Clark, but he won't fail her.

Controlling variables is what he does. Not only what he best knows how to do, but what he needs to do in order to save lives. But it's not to save lives that Bruce finds himself, more frequently than he would like, lingering on the surveillance images his computer compiles for him in weekly updates on her. It's not to save lives that he sometimes wonders what she would say if he called her, if he asked her to meet without the guise of talking strategy.

When one morning, after a night of violence, Bruce touches himself in the shower in order to feel anything different from terrible, the fact that it's Diana's face that takes shape in his mind's eye has nothing to do with her importance in saving lives. That she does and the particular form it takes – her kneeling on the tiled floor, bound tightly, mouth wrapped around him – has everything to do with his need for control.

He comes so furiously at the image that his knees go weak and he has to take a few moments to recover. His semen stains the wall and floor, but for an instant he imagines it painting her face instead and the imagery is nearly enough for a second round.

But Bruce reins himself in and grabs a towel. If he makes a point of steering his thoughts as far away as he can from her before sliding into bed, he tells himself it's solely because thinking of her in that manner is inappropriate.

_...Diana's body twists on the bed, her olive skin shimmering. Her impossibly perfect body is nude and vulnerable in front of him and Bruce is helpless against the urge to touch it._

_He runs his hand from the flat plane of her stomach up the valley of her breasts, which he touches only lightly, reverently. Diana whimpers, a decidedly uncharacteristic sound that makes his already hard member pulse. His hands travel up, over her gracious neck, to the side of her face. Her dark eyes watch him, her breathing heavy as if she has been here, under his mercy, for a while now._

_Her lips look so soft. When he rests his thumb over them, testing that softness, she parts them and sucks his finger inside her velvety, warm mouth. Bruce thinks he groans, but isn't sure. He holds the nape of her neck and lets her suck for a moment, she fits perfectly in his hand._

_When he pulls it away, it's to bend down and touch those lips with his, taste as well as feel all that warm softness. She smells so good it makes him dizzy, he remembers it exactly from their second meeting at the art gala in the Louvre, how even then he knew there was something about her, something more than what mere mortals can be._

“ _Diana.” Bruce whispers her name like a secret when he pulls away. He needs her so much his mind is almost blank, his hands slide over her skin, her breasts, the hair between her thighs. He doesn't even ask himself why she isn't touching him back, not until he is frustrated that she doesn't open her legs to grant him better access to her core and he looks down to see a crisscrossing of rope holding her legs together, winding from feet to waist to her shoulders._

_He should have felt it before, when he was touching her, but it's only now that he does. The rope holds her arms behind her back and he realizes that Diana wasn't touching him or allowing him to feel her better because she couldn't, the rope restricting her movement. This beautiful goddess, lying before him helpless, her body free for him to take, willing for him to touch…_

Bruce wakes up in a jolt, the dream branded into his mind in a way he thought only his nightmares were capable of. He feels sweaty and the erection that bobs between his legs borders on painful. He doesn't think much, simply slides his hand down to grab it, pumping once, twice. He groans deeply, the image of Diana bound and naked, flushed and wet for him so fresh it's almost as if he is still dreaming.

He imagines himself kissing her hard until her lips are even redder, holding her by the neck and pushing her legs up to free his access to her wet pussy, folding her in half. Pictures himself pushing inside, feeling the warm tightness of her. He wants to do it so hard that he wrenches a yell from her, that she twists her body trying to escape his invasion but is unable to, the rope and his grip on her keeping her in place as he thrusts unmercifully.

He imagines that eventually her whimpers turn into groans as her core clenches tightly around his cock. He holds her neck a bit too hard for her to breathe and it only makes her orgasm that much stronger when he finally allows her to draw in a breath. He holds her down, in place, and shoves himself with little finesse, again and again, in her clenching core until he comes deep inside.

When Bruce is back to himself, so out of breath it's as if he went twenty rounds with Doomsday itself, there's cum all over the sheets and he is sure he hasn't come this hard in at least 10 years.

“Fuck.” Is the only word he can think of to describe the direness of the situation.


End file.
